Star Trek: Flight Line
by Deadbeatloser22
Summary: What happens if you look beyond the famous actions of the Dominion War, beyond the big ships, and look at the fighters and their pilots? Contains SI.
1. Chapter 1: Torros III

Here's the legal stuff again. It's pointless and has no real weight, but it's here anyway.

All non-original characters and locations are the properties of their respective copyright holders. Since no-one actually reads this, it's unlikely that I'm going to get sued over it, but please don't anyway.

Anyway…

You know the stories about the Dominion War. From the Second Battle at Deep Space Nine and the destruction of the Torros III shipyards, right up to the final battle for Cardassia itself. Everyone knows about the ships that fought in those battles. But what happens when you look on a smaller level? Like, say, the flight-line on one given ship in the war?

Star Trek: Flight Line

Chapter One: Torros III

Jon grabbed his flight jacket from off of the back of a chair in his quarters, slipping it on as he headed down to the flight deck. It was a little piece of official liberty the pilots got over their uniform that they could substitute the flight jacket for the regular one. Around him, the talk was of impending war. Already, the Bajoran Wormhole was being mined, hoping to cut off the enemy supply line. Not that the Dominion were actually their enemy yet. But with the way diplomacy was going, it wouldn't be that much longer. Jon couldn't help rolling his eyes as he thought about that in the Turbo-lift.

In the pilots ready room, most of the squadron was already assembled. Some in flight-suits, some in uniform. The call had defiantly been urgent though. Jon took his seat in the front row with the other flight leads. He paused briefly to loosen his collar slightly, his fingers brushing over his rank insignia. At the front, the Squadron commander and ship's Second Officer, Commander Tom Jeffreys, was finalising something before commencing his briefing.  
"All right. You know the score. As of two hours ago, we are in a state of war with the Dominion. As such, Command has decided to take the initiative and launch a pre-emptive strike, here." He tapped a PADD, making a rotating model appear on the screen behind him. "This is the Dominion shipyard at Torros III, and the carrier group's been added to the roster to take it out. Our job, is to neutralise a segment of the enemy defence grid, here." He tapped the PADD again, highlighting and enlarging a segment of one of the arms. "Booster, you and your flight will handle the long-range targeting sensors."  
The flight lead to Jon's left nodded once. Booster and his flight were usually tasked with the "Wild Weasel" jobs, taking out enemy sensors to secure the airspace.  
"Cypher, your flight will handle the heavy torpedo emplacements here." The highlight moved. The lead to Jon's right nodded.  
"Sakura, your flight will handle top cover."  
Jon nodded. He'd long since gotten over whatever connotations people tried to find with his call-sign. Although that may have been due to the fact the first time someone tried to poke fun at him for it, he sent them to Sick-Bay with a broken nose and destroyed ego, something which brought him twelve days in the Brig for assaulting a fellow officer. But then, he'd also always had a short fuse. Perhaps it was a good thing he wasn't a security officer.

Jon hung his red uniform shirt up in the locker, and pulled his flight-suit out with one hand while trying to manoeuvre out of his trousers with the other. After nearly falling over a few times, he managed it, and wondered why he hadn't simply done it one item at a time. He sighed, and pulled the suit up over his shoulders, tugging the zipper up to just below the base of his neck. The suit itself was black, with a dark red stripe round each wrist and a rank insignia on the collar, and a name plate on the chest where the comm-badge would normally go. The plate itself was a cloth patch, with Jon's pilot wings, name and rank embroidered onto it. He then grabbed his flight boots, and laced them up before stepping into the ejection harness and buckling it across his chest, popping his combadge off the flight jacket and attaching it with a quiet chirp to the left part of the harness, and finally taking his helmet and heading to the flight line, pulling on his gloves as he went. The helmet was black, with a pair of white stripes running across the top of it, and a number of pink flower petals. Cherry blossoms, after the English translation for his call-sign.

The deck was a hub of activity as technicians worked to get the fighters fuelled and armed for the mission. Booster, real name Lieutenant Commander Mark Lewis, was talking over the heavy attack loads for A Flight with one of the techs. Cypher, otherwise known as Lieutenant Commander James Wilkes, was going over an attack plan with B flight. And there he was, Sakura, aka Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Rose, or Jon to everyone who knew him enough to call him by name, not call-sign, rank or just "sir". Flying top cover meant simply keeping enemy fighters away from the flights with a specific objective, and to be fair that was how he liked it. No complicated planning, all you needed was a watchful eye and an accurate shot, along with wingmen who could do the same. He had both. Lieutenant Taki Woods, call-sign Smash, and Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Greg Thomas, call-sign Shunt. That was probably why everyone referred to them as "S-Flight" instead of "C-Flight" in relaxed settings. The three flights together made up VFA-214, otherwise known as the Black Sharks. That was what was painted on the impulse fairings of all their fighters, at any rate.

Jon climbed up the ladder to his cockpit, placing his helmet on top of the panel as he slid into the seat and began fastening the restraints. In truth, the ejection seat was redundant in space combat, where the pilot could simply be transported to the support vessel far enough out of combat to have its shields down, but not all the combat took place in space. During the Klingon war, Jon and the rest of the squadron had flown a number of missions in support of ground forces, and then an ejection system made a bit more sense. Having fastened his restraints, Jon pulled on his helmet and brought the canopy down. Already, A-Flight was beginning their take-off, Booster and his two wingmen settling onto the mag-strips that aimed out of the launch-bay doors. Jon picked up the oxygen mask from the panel hook in front of him and clipped it in place on his helmet. B-Flight was lining up now, and Jon tapped the starter control on the panel. A brief whine accompanied the impulse thrusters coming online, and the power readings spiked briefly before settling into the green.  
"Charlie-Flight, you are cleared for take-off. Hold short until traffic is clear."  
"Charlie-One, roger."  
Jon lined his fighter up with the markings on the deck, with Smash on his left at No.2 and Shunt at No.3 to his right. The nose wheel locked into the mag-strip, and the whole craft seemed to lean forward. Up ahead, the lights marking the runway turned green, and Jon slammed the throttle open. About a second later, the mag-strip kicked in and fired the Peregrine-class fighter out of the bay and into space. Jon banked the fighter round the saucer section and under the Akira-class carrier's port nacelle, and then back around again into formation with the rest of the squadron which flew in a staggered arrowhead through the rest of the carrier group as it joined up with the Task Force. Up ahead was the sprawling mass of the Torros III shipyards.

"Alpha and Bravo flights, commence attack. All flights, you are weapons free."  
The nine fighters peeled out of the Task Force formation and headed straight for their target. They weren't the only fighters in the group though. As well as their squadron from the _USS Ikari_, there was also VFA-162 (commonly known as the Night Foxes) from the _Kaneda _and VFA-248 (the Red Owls) from the _Kurosaki_. They had their own targets though. Jon and his flight hung back, waiting for enemy interceptors. They weren't waiting long.

"Alpha-one has target lock. Magnum! Magnum!" That call meant that Booster had fired his heavy torpedoes at the sensor arrays. Sure enough, the two pieces of ordnance impacted and detonated, and the sensors seemed to falter. Subsequent impacts from his wingmen tore the array apart. Now the heavy defensive guns were blind until they could be hooked up to a new set of targeting sensors.  
"Bravo-one, Rifle!" Cypher took a shot at the heavy launcher, blowing one of the tubes apart and sending debris scything into several others. Then Jon looked up, and saw the enemy diving toward them.  
"Charlie-one has tally on four bandits at two-o'clock high, closing fast."  
"Tac-Com copies. Go get 'em." Tac-Com was the combat flight controller on the _Ikari_.  
Jon pulled up, lining up on the diving fighters. They looked like purple insects. Jem'Hadar attack vessels. He opened the throttle to combat power, and found himself engaged in a game of chicken with the lead vessel. It fired at his fighter several times and missed, before it was highlighted on Jon's Head-up display as his photon torpedoes locked on.  
"Charlie-One has tone. Fox Two." The gold-yellow torpedo lanced from the launcher under the starboard wing and smashed into the enemy vessel, but it continued to close with him.  
"Charlie-Two, guns." Jon saw the pulses pass him to the left as Taki fired on the lead vessel. Her shots tore through the port nacelle, causing it to explode. "Charlie-Two, splash one."  
Jon rolled left and pulled his own trigger.  
"Charlie-One, guns."  
These shots ripped into the main hull of the number two ship, sending it spinning out of control and crashing into one of the docking arms.

"All flights, this is Tac-Com. Bravo-One reports target destroyed. Switch comms to TAC-2, you are cleared to engage enemy fighters on sight." The tactical controller on the _Ikari_ was handing them over to SWACS' control now the primary mission was complete. TAC-2 was the open channel shared by all wings, so the flight call-signs were out of use for the rest of the planned mission.  
"Sakura, wilco." Jon signalled his affirmative, then tapped the control on his panel marked with TAC-2. The SWACS (Space-borne Warning And Control System) operator on-board the Nebula class _USS Tempest_ was call-signed Highwind.  
"Highwind, this is Sakura checking in."  
"Roger Sakura. You have bandits inbound bearing one-two-six point two, cleared to engage on sight."  
"Roger, have target visual. Sakura, engaging."  
"All fighters, this is Highwind. The fleet is moving into attack and is requesting cover. Keep your heads on a swivel."  
Jon looked around, and saw a group of Cardassian fighters diving at one of the fleet's light cruisers.  
"Sakura has tally on four _Hideki_, on course for the _Tahoe_." He then looked forward again, and caught a lock on one of his vectored targets as phaser fire from the _Tahoe_ destroyed the inbound fighters.  
"Sakura, Fox Three." Pressing the button launched a Quantum torpedo out of his port tube, and into the rear of the locked attack ship, making it explode. "Sakura, splash one."  
"Tracked on sensors, kill confirmed."  
By now, the armada was beginning to pass the defensive perimeter that the various fighter squadrons had punched holes in. Phaser, disruptor and torpedo fire tore chunks out of the superstructure.

Then a call came over the TAC.

"All fighters, we have a fire mission. Requirement is one craft to enter the exposed structure at grid 268-024 and hit the backup coolant system. Sakura and Booster, you read as closest. Current ordnance status?"  
"Booster is Winchester." Booster was out of ordnance, with only his phasers left able to fire.  
"Sakura is Tiger." Jon stated he had enough ordnance to complete the mission.  
"Understood. Target marker has been sent. Booster, provide cover."  
Jon rolled his fighter to the left and flew toward a breach in the structure, where a navigation point was flashing on his HUD. Beyond that, the coolant line pulsed ice-blue gently as the targeting system scanned it, then turned red as it locked.  
"Sakura, Fox Three."  
The single quantum torpedo sailed lazily into the conduit, before smashing into and obliterating it. Jon smashed the throttle forward to try to escape as the explosion began to spread. Dodging one piece of the superstructure, then another, he finally rolled out of the breach as the explosion severed that particular arm.  
"All fighters, this is Highwind. Mission complete, return to carriers."  
As the fighter squadrons formed up to return to their various carriers, more explosions began to rip through the shipyard structure, before the primary fusion reactor finally went critical from the damage done by the fleet, causing the entire station to be consumed in a fireball.

"Sakura, begin carrier landing checks. You are cleared to land."  
Jon touched a slide-switch on his control panel, lowering the landing gear and magnetic tail hook, and setting the other systems in landing mode. He brought the fighter in through the rear launch bay doors, touching down on the flight deck with a slight squeak from the tires and a clunk from the arresting field. He then taxied the fighter back into it's slot on the flight line, and popped the canopy. He then removed his oxygen mask and climbed out of the cockpit, taking of his helmet and running his hands through his dark brown hair a few times to try to dry some of the sweat. That, and it had been compacted by the helmet, a look he never really liked.

Up in the locker room, everyone was celebrating. Jon stuck his helmet and harness in the locker, then slammed it a bit harder than he needed to. Must be the adrenaline still coursing through his system.  
"Hey Sak! Catch!"  
Jon turned just in time to catch the casually thrown bottle, popping it open on the keyhole for his locker.  
"That was one sweet shot you made back there!" Booster was leaning back against the lockers while still sat on the bench. His blonde hair was slicked in odd spikes with sweat.  
"Not as good as you blowing that Jem'Hadar ship off my tail. Guess I owe you for that."  
"Come on. The rate he' going, he's gonna have to start paying interest on all these loans." Taki managed to get most of the locker room laughing, including Jon, even though he knew the joke was at his expense. But he didn't seem to care. After all, it was an excuse to kick back and celebrate the first victory of the war.

Little did they know it would be the only one for a while...

A/N: So there we are. Sorry if the radio jargon made everything unreadable. If you find one I didn't explain, then the Wikipedia page on Brevity codes should help.


	2. Chapter 2: Retrieval

Here's the legal stuff again. It's pointless and has no real weight, but it's here anyway.

All non-original characters and locations are the properties of their respective copyright holders. Since no-one actually reads this, it's unlikely that I'm going to get sued over it, but please don't anyway.

Anyway…

Star Trek: Flight Line

Chapter Two: Retrieval

It had been three months since the war began. And it was going badly. The _Ikari_ and other

vessels in the Second Fleet had been hit hard by Dominion counter-attacks and allied forces were being placed on a defensive footing. What was needed was something big to demonstrate they weren't finished yet. However, when the Seventh Fleet was almost annihilated in the Tyra system, things went from bad to worse.

Jon was sat in the locker room, reviewing a report he'd received earlier that day. The news wasn't good. He heard the door slide open and looked up as Taki came in. Like everyone else, she was showing signs of serious battle-fatigue. Her black hair stood in irregular spikes, rather than being flattened down as it usually was, and her ice-blue eyes seemed empty.  
"Hey. What's up?" She seemed genuinely concerned.  
"I received this this morning." He held up the PADD. "It's bad."  
"How so?"  
"The science vessel my brother's serving on was reported trapped behind enemy lines when the war started. Now it's been destroyed with all hands captured."  
At that point, Mark put his head round the door.  
"Hey. Get yourselves in here. We're being deployed again."

Commander Jeffreys was running through the latest briefing with the squadron.

"Starfleet Intelligence has identified a Dominion POW camp on Athos IV, within the Badlands. Therefore, at 0630 yesterday morning, Command gave the green light for a retrieval operation to take place, and a Marine Special Operations battalion infiltrated and secured the camp. However, it is possible that the camp garrison managed to send a distress call, so the extraction phase has been moved forward. Booster and Sakura, your flights will be responsible for securing the airspace over the camp so the extraction teams can do their job. Cypher, your flight will hold position at the return point and prevent any inbound hostiles from making it to the system."

Jon walked across the flight deck, geared up and helmet in hand, and found his attention drawn to the two black Danube-Class runabouts sat off to one side, and the heavily armed troops clustered round them. Each was dressed in a dark grey battle-dress uniform, with a black load-bearing harness. All carried a black helmet and a phaser rifle, along with a hand phaser holstered on the belt. Marine Spec-Ops, he guessed. He tried to ignore them, and climbed the ladder up to his cockpit, pausing to brush some soot off the nose art by the base of the canopy. It was a yellow boomerang, trailing what appeared to be pink leaves. Cherry blossoms, after his call-sign.

As the nine fighters and two runabouts entered the Badlands, three of them broke off and held position at the edge, while the rest carried on into the plasma storms.  
"All craft, this is Booster. Standby to commence comm-out procedures until we reach the target. Go silent."  
Jon tapped the flashing control on the panel, and heard a whirring noise as the communicator shut itself off. He then settled back and concentrated on following Booster as he navigated round the plasma columns toward the planet. It was the first time he'd been into the Badlands, and was almost in awe at the fact the space seemed to be on fire.

Athos IV was a world shrouded in fog, making it impossible to determine any terrain purely by eye.  
"All craft, switch to thermal."  
Jon hit a control on the panel, which swept a red line up over the canopy windows, allowing him to see through the fog. Up ahead, the beacon planted by the Marine unit already in the base pulsed gently on his HUD. Then he looked at his search sensor screen.  
"Retrieval flight, this is Sakura. Proceed to the hold point until we can secure air superiority over the target. Current status is twelve-plus bandits in the vicinity, plus ground support."  
"Understood. Good hunting."

The two flights accelerated as they closed with the enemy.  
"Sak, drop you flight down to low altitude and deal with the guns. We'll take the fighters."  
"Gotcha. Smash, Shunt, you heard Booster. Drop altitude to 5000, and watch out for the mountains." The last thing any of them needed was to smash into a rock face at several times the speed of sound. The ground turrets spotted them first, and soon they were dodging pillars of yellow and purple death, as well as the mountains.

"Sakura, Fox Two." The photon torpedo smashed one Anti-Air tank apart, the explosion scorching a fair bit of the immediate area. Jon then switched his comm from squad to open.  
"Booster, this is Sakura. We're almost done clearing up down here, what's your status?"  
"Hold on..." Mark's voice was strained, and Jon could see him struggling to shake off a lone Jem'Hadar fighter.  
"I see your tail. Lead him down into the canyon, I'll give you support."  
"Understood."

Jon watched Booster roll his fighter over and into the canyon, followed by the lone Jem'Hadar ship. He then yawed round to come up behind it, and chased the pair through the canyon as it twisted left and right.  
"Come on... almost there..." The targeting sensor snapped onto the enemy. "Sakura, Fox Two." The torpedo lanced out and struck the starboard nacelle, knocking the craft off balance and sending it into the rock face. Booster pulled up and out of the canyon, and Jon followed.  
"Rocker, Killjoy, status?"  
"Sky's clear, but I don't know how long it'll stay that way."  
"All right. Retrieval One, this is Booster. You're clear to land at the camp."  
"Booster, this is Cypher. Make it quick, a Jem'Hadar patrol just entered the system. We can't intercept them without blowing the operation."

Jon watched the two runabouts touch down inside the camp perimeter. It seemed the Dominion merely re-purposed the old Maquis base on the planet as a prison.  
"Two of the fighters just entered the atmosphere. Go dark." Going dark meant killing the engines on the runabouts and throwing up a jamming field. It made them undetectable to the patrol ships, but also meant that the fighters had no targeting capability if they had to intercept.  
"Retrieval flight is good to go, just waiting on your green light."  
"Hold up. The lead ship's running scans. All fighters, be ready to go loud."  
Something on the lead runabout's panel beeped.  
"Damn. They found us."  
"Booster to all fighters. Go loud!"  
The six fighters took off from various places round the camp and opened up on the two ships with a mass of phaser fire.  
"Booster to Retrieval One, time to go. The _Ikari_ will be waiting at the RV point."  
"Understood."

The group cleared the atmosphere without incident. And then the contacts started appearing.  
"Looks like we're going to have to fight our way out." Booster was being as hot-headed as ever. This might have explained his call-sign. That and the way he liked to fly almost everywhere on full burner.  
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Killjoy, Booster's No.3, was living up to his name.  
"Killjoy's right. You wanna risk igniting the plasma streams?" Jon tried to play the voice of reason.  
"Fine." Booster definitely sounded crushed. "We'll make a break for the RV point. Follow me."  
The formation dodged round the plasma columns as they tried to make it to the edge and off to the carrier. But their pursuers weren't about to let them go that easily.  
"Four... No, five ships closing fast at our six." Jon was getting frantic.  
But no-one could have predicted what happened next.

Phaser fire lanced out of nowhere, as Cypher brought his flight round a plasma column.  
"All right. Hit 'em again, and only take the shots you know will hit. Watch for the plasma."  
The concentrated phaser blasts from all three fighters slowly tore the ships apart or drove them all over the place, the plasma streams doing more damage than their fire.

The _Ikari_ sat just over the border, the only ship within a light-year. Which, really, was the point. That section of the border was chosen for their ingress precisely because it was so quiet. Eventually, the nine fighters and two runabouts crossed back over into Federation space, and alighted on the deck. The POWs all showed signs of major fatigue, most of them having been taken prisoner after escaping from ships in battle. Some less than others. More than a few vessels had been captured after being trapped behind the lines at the start of the war. Most of them were self-destructed by their captains to keep various pieces of intelligence, such as fleet positions, out of enemy hands.

Jon clambered out of his cockpit as fast as he possibly could, leaving his helmet on the seat behind him. Over to the side of the deck, the recovered POWs were being blood screened to make sure none of them was a Changeling infiltrator. But whoever he was looking for, wasn't there.

A few hours later, Jon was in the mess hall, staring out the window. Like all the other pilots he'd stopped wearing his regular uniform off the flight deck, if only so they could scramble that bit faster if the balloon went up.  
"Hey, you OK?"  
It was Taki. She'd managed to smooth the spikes out of her hair, although some of that may have been down to it being jammed under her flight helmet for several hours.  
"Yeah, I guess."  
"Thought your brother might have turned up in the group we helped rescue?"  
"I suppose. But the more I think about it, the more I realise it was a bit foolish to think he'd be in the first camp we found."  
"Well, maybe it gives you something to fight for?"  
"You know what, maybe it does."


	3. Chapter 3: Return, Part One

Here's the legal stuff again. It's pointless and has no real weight, but it's here anyway.

All non-original characters and locations are the properties of their respective copyright holders. Since no-one actually reads this, it's unlikely that I'm going to get sued over it, but please don't anyway.

Anyway…

Star Trek: Flight Line

Chapter Three: Return, Part One

The _Ikari_ was orbiting Starbase 375, along with the rest of the Second Fleet. Having rejoined the fleet following their operation across the border, the whole task group was pulled back to the Starbase and await further orders. The only clue they had about what was going on was the size of the armada that was already there and waiting. So now they were sitting there, waiting for an order they had no clue about. What they did know was that everything was going to change just a bit.

"What?" Booster was shocked.  
"Word is, we're getting a fresh load of nuggets in today." Jon tried to explain. "Nugget" was a slang term they used to describe a trainee pilot.  
"Jeez... This soon into the war? Why? I mean, it's not like we're short-handed or anything."  
"Best guess is they're being thrown out of Cranwell as soon as they can hit a target and fly straight at the same time. And presumably there aren't enough under manned squadrons for them to be posted as replacements to." Cranwell was where all the new fighter pilots were trained, as part of their specialisation training around regular courses at the Academy. "Although I presume you're gonna break them in the usual way?" Booster had a reputation for hazing rookie squad members. Everyone posted to the squad fresh out of the Academy had things taken and hidden or left for them to find, and the occasional bit of helmet graffiti. Nothing permanent, and all in good fun.  
"You know me too well. Of course. So who am I getting?"  
Jon tapped the PADD carrying the revised roster.  
"Ensign Tom Wade. Call-sign is, predictably, Tomahawk."  
"What happened to the old system, where you'd be assigned it for something notable?"  
Jon laughed under his breath. There was a time when a pilot's call-sign told you something about them, such as Booster's hot-headedness and fondness for afterburner, Rocker's love of heavy music and Killjoy's love of bringing everyone back down to earth with a metaphorical bang.  
"Dunno. Either way, it's not as shocking as my newbie. Ensign Simon Duke. Call-sign is Scimitar."  
Mark sighed.  
"What's the story with that?"  
Jon tapped his new No.4's name, bringing up a profile.  
"No idea. Chances are the only reason I got him was to keep that little theme going."

"Keep it steady. That's it." Jon was leading Simon on his first flight. "The next set of rings is just ahead."  
He looked back to see the new pilot's fighter wavering slightly.  
"Just relax. You can do this."  
"Yes sir."  
Jon sighed. Over the comm-system it would have sounded like a rush of static in the rookie's ears. Before the war, a fighter pilot would at least be expected to be able to do this sort of thing easily before they got posted. He tapped a button on his panel, and it flashed once. Simon was flying through the next ring course, concentrating on where he needed to go next.

Jon's search sensor pinged.  
"Damn. Enemy contacts, closing fast from 182 mark 13. We're the only ones that can take them out."  
"What?" The rookie's voice was layered with fear.  
"It's all right. Just stick behind me and you'll be OK."  
"Under... Understood."  
Jon sighed again. The nugget couldn't even string a sentence together anymore.

There were three Jem'Hadar patrol ships, in a loose formation.  
"OK. They don't seem to have noticed us. We should be able to..." Jon's plan was cut off by the formation making a hard turn and coming straight for them, firing at the same time.  
"Dammit. Break!" Jon slammed into a long left turn, popping off a torpedo which obliterated one of the ships, and saw his trainee go right. He hit another button on his panel.

One of the patrol ships broke from the formation and began to chase Jon.  
"Dang. I can't shake him! Get him off me..." The patrol ship fired again, striking Jon's fighter in the starboard nacelle, causing it to explode.  
"No! I can't do this alone!" Simon started to break down, before sucking it in. "There's no choice. I have to." He banked round, and flew straight at the enemy, which kept firing. The shots hit the port wing, but Simon kept closing, before opening up with his phasers at close range. Too close. The shots ripped into the enemy, sending it careening out of control, and straight into the side of Simon's fighter. Everything went white, and then faded into the familiar grid of a holodeck. Jon was stood at the door, helmet in hand. He wasn't happy.  
"What the heck were you trying to do there?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean why you waited that long before firing. You could probably have guessed that gunning that close would make it hit you."  
"But you said this was just going to be a manoeuvring test!"  
"Combat doesn't arrange itself around a nice little schedule. You need to be ready for it at any time. I guess you still aren't ready for active service yet."  
He turned and headed back into the ready room.

Jon was hanging up his harness in his locker when Mark came in.  
"How's your nugget?"  
Jon slammed the door. He was surprised that the number of times he'd done this out of stress hadn't dented it at all.  
"Short answer: He's a complete idiot."  
"And the long answer?"  
"He takes too many risks and can't handle a dogfight on his own. I put him through a little Kobayashi Maru earlier. He decided to use his guns at about 600 meters."  
"What went wrong?"  
"Ship he was targeting went out of control and crashed into him. All I can hope for until I can iron the kinks out of him is that we don't get deployed as a full flight, or that he doesn't have to shoot at anything if we do. How's yours?"  
"As good as can be expected. He can stay in formation through some basic manoeuvres, but other than that..."  
Mark was interrupted by the Launch Stations siren. Jon pulled open his locker again and grabbed his harness and helmet.

Jon pulled on his helmet once he was in the cockpit. He, like everyone else, had no idea what was happening. Once the flight was in formation alongside the _Ikari_, he opened his squad channel.  
"All Charlie-flight aircraft, sound off."  
"Charlie-Two roger."  
"Charlie-Three roger."  
Simon was silent.  
"Charlie-Four? Hello? Can you hear me kid? You'd better be marking our tail, son."  
"Charlie-Four roger."  
Greg perked up.  
"Man, I'm glad you got the short straw instead of me."  
"Shunt, button it." Jon switched his comm back to the fleet channel.  
"All vessels, assume attack positions. Prepare to move out." The command came like a ton of bricks. Normally, the pilots would have been briefed on the target and specific objectives. But here, plainly, was an armada being mobilised at short notice. They'd heard rumours about an attempt to recapture DS9 from the Dominion before they could dismantle the minefield, so maybe that was what was happening. As the four fighters moved into escort position just off the _Ikari_'s starboard nacelle, the lead vessels began to jump to warp, followed by the rest of the fleet.


End file.
